Parallel Dimensions

In a parallel dimension,
Where everything is perfect,
No hate, no war, no injustice,
Prevail, only peace and happiness,
A mother is in mourning;
Her schizophrenic daughter
Slipped and fell and broke her leg.
No, nothing fatal. But alas!
That would have been better…
Who would hire her now?
Who would marry a cripple?
For bones may heal and scars may fade,
But memories don’t, and the fact remains,
That she slipped and fell and broke her leg.
Oh! what a shame it was,
To be the mother of a lass,
Who slipped and fell and broke her leg.
Oh! What a shame it was…

In their neighbour’s house the father weeps,
Filled with sorrow and grief;
His bipolar son, accidentally, had,
Burnt his hand while cooking for a friend.
No, nothing fatal. But alas!
That would have been better…
His life was ruined, he couldn’t face society.
How could he,
For, when wounds heal and scars fade,
memories don’t, and the fact remains,
that he accidentally, had, burnt his hand.
Oh! what a shame it was,
To be the father of a lad,
Who, accidentally, had burnt his hand.
Oh! What a shame it was…

In a less confusing dimension
Where everything made sense,
where revolution was a daily phenomenon
and people were tolerant,
A mother is in mourning;
Her schizophrenic daughter
Slipped and fell and broke her leg.
No, nothing fatal. But alas!
That would have been better…
Who would hire her now?
Who would marry a cripple?
For bones may heal and scars may fade,
But fragile, the mind and brain, remain.
The fact is, she is mentally crippled.
Oh! what a shame it was,
To be the mother of a lass,
Whose mind bore the brunt
Of a chemical imbalance in her brain
Oh! What a shame it was…

In their neighbour’s house the father weeps,
Filled with sorrow and grief;
His bipolar son, accidentally, had,
Burnt his hand while cooking for a friend.
No, nothing fatal. But alas!
That would have been better…
His life was ruined, he couldn’t face society.
How could he?
For, when wounds heal and scars fade,
Fragile, the mind and brain, remain.
The fact is, he is mentally crippled.
Oh! what a shame it was,
To be the father of a lad,
Whose mind bore the brunt
Of a chemical imbalance in his brain
Oh! What a shame it was…

The less confusing dimension,
I’m sure, it sounds familiar.
But the parallel dimension,
To me it sounds confusing.
To you too, if it sounds ridiculous,
Then tell me why.
Why show off your battle scars,
But hide the pain, trauma and distress?
Why care for just your body,
While neglecting your brain and mind?
And in doing so, pride, why do you find?

Superficial wounds; with ease they heal.
The deepest cuts; they need more care and time.
Without attention, they worsen,
Over time, turning into poison
That eats you from within.

None of it is your fault,
It’s nothing to be ashamed of,
unlike what they’ve told you.
It’s nothing that can’t heal,
It’s not irreparable damage,
It’s a mere wound on your brain and mind.

Now would you be so kind,
To let heal, the battle wounds
You had kept so well hidden?
No, not just the ones on your skin,
Also the ones on your brain and mind…